Nightmares
by The Skinny
Summary: A collection of short chapters about the nightmares and dreams of the Fable characters. Please read and please review.
1. Logan

**New story. This will be a collection of the Fable characters and the nightmares they have. It may be weird. I have a thing for nightmares, which is admittedly strange, I know. But anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Albion was falling. <em>His <em>Albion was crumbling before his very eyes. The forests were burning, the mountains were shattering, and his towns were swallowed whole. He could do _nothing_ but watch with heavy eyes as the shadows invaded the brains of _his _people. He could only listen, as the Crawler ruined every citizen with its corrupt words. He could do nothing, he was helpless.

Beautiful Albion was slipping through his fingers, descending into a darkness that would consume it. It was too late to save it. It was already destroyed, corrupted, shattered.

All that he could do was cry out as the world collapsed around him. The Crawlers words echoed through his ears, lapping at the only sanity he had left.

_You could not stop it. _

_Your people are dead. Your kingdom is gone. _

_You are ruined._

**-LINE-**

Logan awoke with a start, sitting upright in his bed. He glanced almost desperately around the familiar room, wiping at his dampened brow.

_It was just a dream. __Nothing more than a nightmare._

But it was the same dream, the same nightmare, which he had been having ever since he returned from Aurora. Ever since Theresa informed him of the impending assault on _his_ Albion.

"The darkness that you experienced in Aurora is coming. In five years time, The Crawler will attack Albion." The seer had spoken these words with frightening ease. Her head tilted to the side as her hands clasped in front of her. Her robe swayed as she paced around the room, speaking of the great evil that was to come. She now stood in front of him, her strange gaze meeting his. "Though you must understand, Logan. You can not stop it, you can not prevent it. You can only prepare for it. You can make sure that you're people are safe, that your Albion is ready." And with that, she was gone, with only an echo remaining of her.

_There is nothing you can do._

_You can't stop it. _

_You can not save Albion._

He relaxed back into his mattress, trying not to close his eyes. Because he knew that the moment he did, the dark visions would take over. The moment he closed his eyes, he would be back in Aurora, cowering in a corner of a dark cave, watching as the shadows killed all of his men. The words of the dark creature still rang true in his ears.

_A great wave of darkness will cover your land. They will come for you. _

_The light you bring will die. The light you know will die. All that you are will die. _

_Who will sit upon the throne of Albion?_

He remembered the words clearly. He knew he could never forget them

**-LINE-**

_"This is my Albion. Its cities will bow to my law, or they will burn. Its mountain will bend to my will or they will fall." He trailed his hand on the edge of the map, lost in his own dark thoughts. "This is my Albion," He whispered. "Its people will do as I say, or they will die. It's future will be as I decree or it will end." He circled around the map, gazing down on Albion's perfection. "I have seen what must be done, and nothing will stand in my way. We will be greater and we will be stronger, no matter what sacrifices we must make!" He turned, placing his hand on the map. He was braced with a new determination, an updated outlook on his life, his world, his everything. He looked over his Albion once more, head heavy with a proud burden. "This is my Albion, and I will see it destroyed before I surrender it."_

* * *

><p><strong>That last part was just a little something I added. I couldn't find a way to ease it into the story, so I added it in at the end, and italicized it. Tell me if you think I should remove it, if it greatly stands alone. <strong>

**Did you like it? Let me know all right? REVIEW, that is an order. Just kidding. But seriously, review, please. (:**

**Should I update? Reaver is next!**


	2. Reaver

**This fic isn't getting much attention, which saddens me. But I'll keep writing and posting, because I am still (only-slightly) OBSESSED with nightmares. Maybe this Reaver chapter will encourage more reviews. Don't let me down Reaver fans!**

**I know it's short, but drabbles are supposed to be short, right? Right. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my words. Anything associated with Fable or Lionhead is credited to their respective owners.**

* * *

><p><em>He dreamed of Oakvale, quiet and peaceful, only days before it was destroyed by the Shadow Court.<em>

_ Reaver, or at least, the man Reaver used to be, was standing outside of one of the houses in the village, speaking, loudly and proudly, to a young woman, who was standing just inside the door frame. Warmth filled him as her laughter bubbled, his ears practically perking up at the sound. Everything felt right; the past, the future, the present. He was concerned about nothing. He was happy._

_The happiness never lasted. The happiness died, along with the rest of the village, as the Shadow Court claimed it and everyone in it, including her, his beloved. This is not what he had wanted. He fell to his knees as the screams of despair filled his ears. Everybody. Mothers, children, husbands. They were all dead, because of him. Because of his choice. And her, his only love. She was dead. She was gone. He would never again feel her embrace, her soft skin, or hear her laughter, her soothing voice. Never again._

_ He crumbled to the floor, the pain engulfing him. He waited there, for days, it seemed, urging death to come and take him as well, completely welcoming it._

_ But death never came._

**-LINE-**

Reaver awoke with a start, his whole body damp with sweat and his heart racing. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark room around him.

He was not in Oakvale. He was in Bloodstone Manor, _his _Bloodstone Manor.

His mind gratefully retreated from the familiar nightmare, the same one that occurred almost every time he closed his eyes. His rapidly beating heart returned to normal as he felt the sweat on his forehead cool and dry.

Reaver was acutely aware of his Dragonstomper, which lay cradled against chest, as it did every night, loaded and ready to fire. He knew many people who wanted him dead, and, for him, a weapon was necessary for a safe and fitful sleep.

Focusing on the feeling of the cool steel of the instrument, he brought his right hand up to the gun, his fingers skillfully wrapping around the weapon, holding it in its familiar grip. His jaw tensed and his eyes stayed fixated to the ceiling.

He slowly raised it up, holding the barrel under his chin, almost savoring the feeling.

Death. It would be so easy to die. He would only have to pull one trigger, just once. And he could sleep, forever, finally free of the nightmares that kept him so tightly bound to a past he only wished he could forget. He inhaled deeply and clenched his eyes shut as the muscles in his hand flexed, and then relaxed.

Deep down, he knew death would never be that simple for him.

He pulled the gun away, forcing himself to sit up. He ran a hand over his face, deciding it was too early for such dreary thoughts. He forced all thoughts of his past away, at least until his next slumber, where the nightmare would undoubtedly seek him out again. Hauling himself out of bed, he began his day as he always did, with the same phrase repeating itself in his head.

_I am not he… He was a weak, fearful, breakable man. I am not he…. I am Reaver._

* * *

><p><strong>A little dark, I know. But, the way I see it, Reaver has his whole town's blood on his hands, including all of his friends, loved ones, family, etc.. I mean, no matter how long he's lived, that shit has got to still eat away at him. And the way he's pushed who he used to be to the very back of his mind, only remembering when he's forced to, is so... Reaver-ish. There might be more Reaver nightmares, later in life. I know he's a wickedly handsome, heartless, and soulless man, but that doesn't mean he never feels a little tiny bit guilty, does it? <strong>

**And, uh, little side note, how attractive is Reaver? I mean, good God! **

**Review, please. Because, as of now, I feel like the guy at the party who keeps making jokes that no one is laughing at.**


End file.
